Family Tragedy

I had been to a pheasant shoot near the Scottish border with my friends Jane and Robert Benson, a three-day event we had left early so I could see more of the Lake District before making the trek home to Bequia.  It was 1:00 in the morning when we got to the house in Cumbria, and as Robert unlocked the front door we could hear the telephone ringing. It was a strange time for someone to be calling, and  I laughingly said it was probably Mac checking up on me. I was partly right, the phone WAS for me, and as Robert handed me the receiver I noticed that his many red freckles were highlighted because his face had gone parchment white.  At the same time, Jane answered a knock at the door, and to my surprise a policeman stepped into the kitchen.

My mother had called. She and dad had arrived on Bequia for the winter while I was in England along with their good friends David and Norah Busby. These particular friends had been with my parents when they first discovered Bequia, and were celebrating David’s retirement with a trip to the island. On hearing my mother’s voice I braced myself, knowing that a phone call at such a strange time would not herald good news. My father had been on “borrowed time” for a few years, he had suffered a heart attack and had later developed serious diabetes. I assumed correctly that he had died.

Mom told me that Mac had carried Dad and Father Busby to the mainland so they could welcome the new Bishop of the Windward Islands to St. Vincent, and that they hadn’t made it back. Knowing my father must have died I told Mom how sorry I was, and that I would be home in a few days. My mother, as gently as possible, asked me to listen carefully to what she was saying; Mac had FLOWN dad and his friend to St. Vincent and they hadn’t made it back, the plane had crashed shortly after departure and there were no survivors. I now understood why Robert’s freckles were standing out, I felt the blood drain from my own face as Mom told me what had happened. I recall thinking I must be having a dream, this could NOT be real, but the sight of the solemn-looking policeman standing in the kitchen was a clear indication that I was not having a nightmare.

Mom, knowing only that I was visiting my friends Jane and Robert in Cumbria, had no clue how to contact me and had been desperate to do so.  Son Mitchell had pulled many strings to track me down, only to find that no-one answered the phone at the Benson residence in England. Policemen had been stationed by the front door in shifts, it was only by chance that the Bobby in front of me hadn’t been at his post when we arrived. Instead of my mother telling me about the ‘plane crash it would have been a policeman, a total stranger, and on reflection I’m grateful he wasn’t on the doorstep when we pulled up in front of the house.

Jane jumped into action. I obviously had to get home to Bequia right away, and while I frantically packed my bags she called the train station at Penrith. If we hurried we could catch the next train, and in a daze I said my good-byes to Robert and drove at breakneck speed with Jane to the station. On hearing there were no sleeper cars Lady Jane appealed to the station master to have one attached, and after explaining the situation to him he agreed. The delay while this was done meant the train would be thrown off schedule, but I would be able to lie down during the long ride.

I could not stop crying. Mac was dead, my father was dead and so was my father’s good friend. My mother had lost her husband, yet she had to somehow comfort her grandchildren as well as Norah Busby. My children had just lost their father and grand-father in a horrible fashion and their mother was more than 4,000 miles away, a situation that made me feel desperate as well as hopeless. Jane sat beside me in the sleeper car, soothing me as best she could as the train wound through the countryside.

I felt numb. How could this be happening? How could life throw such a vicious curve ball? I dreaded going home, but at the same time was gripped with an urgency to get there as quickly as possible.